by Joyce Alec
There came a short, stunned silence. Ellen could not lift her head to look at her mother, her shame more than she could bear. Whilst this did not clear Lord Hartley of his part in their hurried engagement, Ellen now saw that she was equally, if not more so, to blame for it. Had she not insisted that they go out to the gardens, had she not taken advantage of the darkness and pressed her lips to his for the briefest of moments, then none of this might have occurred.
“Oh, Ellen,” her mother sighed, without the slightest hint of anger or upset. “Why did you not tell me before?”
“Because I was ashamed,” Ellen cried, her eyes filling with tears. “I know that this puts part of the responsibility for what occurred on my shoulders, and I do not want to have any kind of blame.”
Her mother shook her head, a sad smile on her lips. “And so you prefer to make Lord Hartley bear full responsibility.” She sighed again and took a long sip of her tea, mulling over what had been said. “For all that you blame Lord Hartley, Ellen, he has taken full responsibility for what has occurred. He did not mention to your father that it was you who wanted to walk in the gardens, nor that it had been you who pressed your attentions on him first. That says something about his honor, even if you found it lacking elsewhere.”
It was a truth that Ellen did not want to face up to. She had spent the last few days wallowing in misery, refusing to think about what she had done and simply going over and over how cruel and dishonorable Lord Hartley had been.
“I will not speak of this to your father,” her mother finished softly, with still no anger in her voice, “but you will need to think about how you are to go forward into the future with this man, Ellen. You cannot bear a grudge forever, especially when it was not all his doing.”
“But I cannot trust him!” Ellen said, sitting forward and putting her head in her hands. “He played me false!”
“Did he?”
Ellen’s head shot up. “Yes, he did! He kissed me to win a bet, that is all.”
Her mother shook her head. “No, Ellen. You have just told me that he did not want to go into the gardens with you and that it was not he who kissed you first.” She lifted one eyebrow, and Ellen felt her mother’s steady gaze burn into her soul. “My dear, you have been so determined to blame Lord Hartley for all this that you are not seeing things clearly. Mayhap he had every intention of winning the bet when he first started out, but things may have changed since then. Why the reluctance to walk with you in the gardens if he had every intention of doing exactly as he had planned?”
It was a question Ellen could not answer, her heart growing heavy, as she realized that, once again, her mother was speaking with wisdom and clarity. Lord Hartley had claimed that he had wanted to tell her the truth of it all, but she had not believed him. Could she, now, begin to consider that he had been telling her the truth?
“Do you understand what I am saying, Ellen?”
“Yes, Mama,” Ellen whispered, her humiliation burning through her very core. “I understand.”
“And I am grateful that you told me everything,” the countess finished, with a small smile. “Whilst it may not have been intentional, I think it best that it all came out in the end.”
“Yes, Mama,” Ellen said again, taking a sip of her tea and hoping desperately that they would not have to speak of this much longer. Her thoughts were even more confused than before, her shame pouring all through her.
The countess got to her feet, evidently choosing to end the conversation. “I think I shall leave you to your thoughts, Ellen. One thing I will say is that the affection you felt for Lord Hartley is not likely to have just dwindled and died within you. It will still be there, somewhere. Mayhap it would be best to let it flourish, Ellen, if you are to have a happy marriage.”
She did not say anything more, but simply smiled at Ellen, as if to reassure her that there was no lingering anger on her part. Ellen smiled back, managing to lift her eyes to her mother’s face for the first time since she they had started this particular discussion.
As the door closed behind her, Ellen knew that she now had a great deal to consider. The truth had come out, and it had left something of a bad taste in her mouth, but a bad taste had to be dealt with one way or another.
Was there still an affection for Lord Hartley somewhere? If she managed to forgive him, would it begin to surface again? It would mean, of course, that she would have to accept her part in all this and allow her heart to begin to open toward him again – something she never thought she would be able to do. If she accepted that Lord Hartley might have had every intention of telling her all, just as he had said, then that would mean she had to begin to trust him.
It was a state she did not want to consider, but her mother’s words lingered in her mind. She was due to see Lord Hartley again very soon. Would she ever find it in her heart to forgive him for what he had done? And, more importantly, would she ever be able to forgive herself?
14
Ten days later and George found himself sitting across from Lady Ellen as they made their way through Hyde Park, taking part in the fashionable hour as was expected from a newly engaged couple. They did not speak to one another, but instead, smiled as each acquaintance waved at them delightedly. Lady Ellen had not warmed to him in this last week, although he had visited each day as expected. They had some stilted conversation, although it was sometimes helped by the presence of her mother, but she still had not so much as smiled at him since the ball and their hasty engagement.
News about their betrothal had travelled quickly through London, it seemed, and Lady Ellen was playing her part well. He knew that she was desperately unhappy, and he felt nothing but guilt and shame when it came to his part in her suffering, but there was nothing to be done but to bear it. He intended to make every effort to be the kind of man he should have always been once they wed, even though Lady Ellen did not believe a word of what he had said about being truthful and honest with her. As much as he regretted what had occurred, George hoped that they would somehow find a way through together.
“Ah, Lord Hartley!” exclaimed one particular lady, rushing over to his carriage, which continued to meander slowly around the park. “How wonderful to see you! And this is your dear Lady Ellen, is it not?”
“Yes, indeed,” George replied, mustering a smile. “Lady Ellen, this is Miss Josephine Smith, due to be wed to Lord Rivenhall.”
“Many congratulations,” Lady Ellen replied, with a soft smile. “I do hope your preparations are going well.”
Miss Smith beamed at her, clearly delighted to be asked such a thing. “Yes indeed, it is a most busy time, although I am enjoying it a great deal,” she exclaimed, with a slight blush in her cheeks. “I am sure you understand, Lady Ellen!”
“Of course,” came the swift reply. “I am blessed, however, in having a very uninterested groom.”
Before George could counter this statement, Miss Smith simply laughed and shook her head knowingly. “Ah yes, I quite understand Lady Ellen. I am sure it will be the most wonderful of occasions, and you will be the most beautiful of brides.”
“I quite agree,” George replied, shooting a quick glance toward Lady Ellen, who caught his gaze for a moment before looking away. Was that a faint blush on her cheeks? Or was he hoping for too much?
“Well, I had best be off,” Miss Smith finished, as another gentleman came toward their carriage. “Good day to you, Lord Hartley, Lady Ellen.”
“Good day,” they murmured together, before sitting quietly once more. The gentleman who had been coming toward them stopped and spoke to Miss Smith for a moment before continuing to draw near their carriage – and George recognized him at once.
“Lord Hastings!” he exclaimed, surprised to see his friend returned to London. “Have you returned for the Season?”
Lord Hastings did not answer, however, inclining his head toward Lady Ellen who, clearly, had very little idea as to who this gentleman was. Realizing just how rude he had been, George quickly
made the hasty introductions before returning his attention to his friend.
“Hartley,” Lord Hastings began, with no smile on his face and ignoring his question completely. “I come with some bad news, I am afraid.”
George frowned at once, his concern growing. He had enough to contend with at the moment, surely there could not now be something new to add to all this.
“It is to do with your friend, Lord Morton,” Lord Hastings continued quietly. “I am afraid there is something you should know.”
Seeing his friend shoot a glance toward Lady Ellen, George bade him open the door and come in the carriage to join them. He took his seat next to Lady Ellen and allowed Lord Hastings to sit opposite.
“Does this news concern me?” Lady Ellen asked, her voice low and quiet. “I do not need to remain if it does not.”
Lord Hastings threw a look toward George, who shook his head at once and patted Lady Ellen’s hand. “No, I wish you to remain, my dear,” he said firmly. “Remember, you deserve to know everything that is going on in my life, and that includes whatever Lord Morton is up to.”
Clearing his throat, Lord Hastings shook his head and sighed. “I am afraid the man has been mouthing off, Hartley.”
Tension began to coil in George’s belly. “Where?”
“White’s, mostly,” Lord Hastings replied, with a slight shrug. “You are not there, so he appears not to care about what he says. Of course, he drinks far too much, and his tongue gets the better of him, but regardless, he is not being particularly careful.”
“Oh, no,” Lady Ellen whispered, just as George realized her hand was slowly fastening onto his shirt sleeve. “What is it he is saying?”
Lord Hastings looked rather uncomfortable, but George gave him a slight nod. “You need not worry about speaking openly here, Hastings. Lady Ellen is quite able to take in whatever you say.”
“Very well,” Lord Hastings replied, clearly a little discomfited. “He is telling anyone who will listen that Lady Ellen was the one to press her attentions on you, and that, in order to salvage her reputation, you were forced into matrimony. He states that you wish not to be married at all and that you are only doing so because Lady Ellen’s father has promised you a very great sum of money.” Lord Hastings winced as he spoke the last few words, as though aware that what he had repeated was both hurtful and scandalous. “The gentlemen in White’s have not said anything as yet, believing Lord Morton to be in his cups and certainly not wanting to bring any kind of shame to either you or the lady. However, I thought it best to let you know what he is saying so that you might be able to deal with it somehow.”
“That is very good of you, Hastings,” George replied, aware of a growing heaviness in his soul. “Thank you for being so open with me. I very much appreciate your honesty.”
“I only hope that you can find a way to put a stop to his outrageous claims,” Lord Hastings replied with a deep frown. “The man is quite ridiculous, and I have told him so myself. However, even the threat of violence from me did very little to stop him. He is a man who cares nothing for himself or others.”
Recognizing himself from that description, George felt his cheeks warm. “Indeed. I shall deal with the matter with all swiftness, Lord Hastings. Thank you for taking the time to speak to us about this.”
“Of course.” Lord Hastings tipped his hat to Lady Ellen, and with a quick smile to George, he took his leave of them both.
There was a short, tense silence.
“We should leave the park,” George muttered, not quite sure where to look. “I need to return you to your parents before I go in search of Lord Morton.”
“No, stay.”
It was not only the words that surprised him, but also the warmth that came with them.
“I think we should linger here a little longer,” she continued quietly. “I would not want anyone watching to think that we have been chased away by something that Lord Hastings has said.”
“I would have thought you would have taken any opportunity to leave,” George replied, a little wryly. “And now you are telling me you wish to remain in my company for a little longer?”
She did not smile, although her gaze lingered on him. “I think it best for both of us, Lord Hartley,” she stated calmly. “That is the only reason.”
Now feeling rather foolish, George nodded and shrugged. “Yes, of course.”
The tension within the carriage began to grow, as they continued to meander around the park. Outside the carriage, there were a great many conversations, with laughter and the like floating in toward them both. George was caught up with his own thoughts, wondering what he was to do with Lord Morton. He had warned the man to keep his mouth closed, and yet it appeared that Morton had done the exact opposite.
“What are you thinking?”
Lady Ellen’s question interrupted his worry, and he looked across to her, surprised to see a look of concern on her features.
“I am not quite sure,” he said honestly. “Lord Morton and I have already spoken of this matter, and I warned him to keep his mouth closed, but it appears he has not done so."
He saw Lady Ellen swallow hard, her fingers tightening as she clasped them together.
“I will find a way to keep him silent,” he promised, wishing he could reach across and take her hand in his in order to comfort her. “You need not worry, Lady Ellen, I promise you.”
She said nothing but looked back at him steadily.
“I know I am, yet again, asking you to trust me, which must be vastly difficult for you to do,” he finished, leaning back against the squabs and regarding her carefully. “I am sorry for the whole situation, Lady Ellen.”
“Yes, you have said as much multiple times,” she said sharply. “I do not require you to apologize again. What is done is done, Lord Hartley.” She looked at him steadily, with only a faint hint of concern playing around her mouth. “I think I have no other choice but to trust you with this. You will keep me informed, will you not?”
Relieved that she was, at least, speaking to him, and even more than that, agreeing to trust him with what could be a potentially difficult matter, George nodded fervently and gave her a half smile.
“Of course, I will, Ellen,” he said, dropping her formal title and inwardly wincing as he saw her frown. “You will still come to the ball with me tomorrow evening, I hope?”
She inclined her head, but turned her gaze out of the window, not mentioning his lack of proper address but appearing to accept that from him. George, letting out a long, slow breath of relief that he hoped she did not notice, rapped once on the roof of the carriage, and within a few minutes, he felt it rumble back across the cobbled streets of London.
“Thank you for joining me today, Ellen,” he said quietly, as the carriage came to a stop outside her house. “I trust you had a fairly pleasant afternoon.”
Her eyes lit on him for a moment, a slight puzzlement evident on her features. She said nothing, nor did she get out of the carriage. George, not knowing what to say, nor what was going on in her mind chose to sit quietly, simply allowing her to take as much time as she needed to work through whatever it was she was thinking.
“You are quite correct, Lord Hartley,” she said eventually.
“Correct?” George repeated, unsure about what she was referring to. “Correct about what?”
A faint pink brushed her cheeks, but she did not look away. “When we went into the gardens, you did attempt to prevent me,” she said slowly. “You did not want us to go, but I was the one who insisted. You did not kiss me, but it was I who reached for you first.”
George shook his head. “I am still guilty, my lady.”
“Oh, I know that,” she declared, with a slight toss of her head. “You are guilty of a great many things, but I have become aware of my own part in all of this. It is unfair of me to lay the entirety of the blame at your feet.” Her eyes darted away from him for a moment before catching his gaze again. “I think, in time, I may learn to
trust you.”
Completely taken aback by Ellen’s sudden declaration, George stared at her for a long moment, before clearing his throat and trying to think of what to say in response.
“I should have insisted all the more firmly that we not go to the gardens,” he said quietly, aware of the somewhat strange look she was giving him. “I should have demanded that we remained indoors and certainly not given in to the strong desires swamping through me. My guilt and my shame in even the thought of pretending to be something I was not—simply in order to win a bet—will continue to weigh heavily on my shoulders for a long time to come. I can assure you of that.”
There was a brief pause, and much to his surprise, Ellen reached across and tentatively patted his hand.
“Thank you for listening to me, Hartley,” she said, lifting her hand away almost at once. “I will see you tomorrow evening.”
“I am already looking forward to it,” George stammered, finding himself fixed to his seat, as she gestured for the footman to open the door and stepped out without another word.
It was rudeness itself not to accompany her to the door, but George found that he could not so much as move. The footman shut the door, and the carriage was then rumbling on its way back toward his own home before he could instruct the driver to wait so that he might step out after Ellen.
It had been nearly two weeks since the disastrous night at the ball – and this was the first time Ellen had spoken to him with any kind of candor. It was as though she had simply needed time to consider all that had gone on between them, time to calm her anxious thoughts and think calmly about her future.
Whatever had happened, George was somewhat relieved that she was no longer as cold toward him as she had been. A small smile brushed across his lips, the first happiness he had felt in weeks settling across his soul. Perhaps everything might turn out satisfactorily after all.
